The Devil's in the Details (22 page)

Sure, he wore it well. But not quite as well as a certain demon slayer.

I’m coming back. And next time, I’m not going to stop.

Yeah, right.

I hadn’t seen him in the four days since. Not even his black Land Rover.

Instead, I was playing cat and mouse with the Legion’s newest rookie in the now familiar beat-up Datsun parked a few houses down.

“…said they were eloping.”

“That’s great.”

“Are you shitting me? She can’t elope.”

“Of course she can’t. Why, that’s the worst idea I’ve ever heard. It’s a disaster. Isn’t it?”

“Damn straight. She can’t go running off with that guy. He’s all wrong for her.”

“Completely wrong.” I swallowed. “Um, who exactly are we talking about?”

He stared at me as if I’d just confessed to being celibate (which I totally was, but I wasn’t about to blurt it out). “Syra. The Italian princess that I’ve been on assignment with for the past three months?” He shook his head, and I didn’t miss the pain that flashed in his expression. “She doesn’t even love the guy and he sure as hell doesn’t love her. He couldn’t. They’ve spent all of ten hours together making public appearances. Forget sex, or even kissing, for that matter. He doesn’t even know who she really is. I bet he can’t name her favorite color, which is fuchsia, by the way, or that she likes her eggs poached in the morning or that she’s ticklish behind her left ear.”

But Gio knew. He knew it all.

Because he loved her.

The realization hit as I watched him pace the floor and completely ignore the six remaining cupcakes sitting on my coffee table. Cupcakes weren’t going to ease the anxiety eating him up from the inside out. He was head over heels and he didn’t even know it.

“Have you told her you’ve fallen in love with her?”

“Hell, no.” He shook his head. “I don’t love her. I just think she’s making a mistake marrying someone she hardly knows. It’s a recipe for disaster.”

“And you care because…?”

He shrugged. “She’s a good person. She’s really smart. And sweet. She works with disadvantaged children every Saturday and she goes to see her grandmother every Sunday. She’s loyal and the kids love her like crazy.” The minute he said the words, he came to a dead stop. Every muscle in his body went deathly still and I knew he’d come to a very important conclusion. “I love her like crazy too.” Sheer desperation creased his face. “I
love
her and she’s eloping with that asshole. What the fuck am I going to do?”

Love?
Gio loved Syra?

Sure, I’d suspected. Actually, I’d hoped. I mean, here I was searching for my own true love. It only stood to reason I’d want one of my brethren to find the big L, if for nothing else than to prove that it existed for someone like me. But the real deal? “Are you sure? Maybe you’re just feeling jealous.”

“I’m feeling that too.”

“That’s it, then. You’re superjealous and you’re mistaking it for love.”

“I love her, Jess. I know it sounds crazy, but that’s how I feel.”

“Did you tell her that?”

“No.” He shook his head frantically. “I couldn’t.”

“Yes, you can. You just put on your big-boy underwear and tell her.”

“I really can’t.” His gaze locked with mine. “She told me she never wanted to see me again.”

“And why would she tell you that?”

“Because I sort of told her how stupid she was for marrying such a womanizing idiot.”

“You didn’t?”

He nodded. “Right after I forbade her from marrying said womanizing idiot.”

“You
didn’t
.”

He nodded. “I told her she couldn’t marry him, that I wouldn’t allow it, and she told me that I had no right to tell her what to do, and I told her that someone needed to because she obviously couldn’t make good choices for herself, and then she said she never wanted to see me again, and I said fine because I never wanted to see her again. But I didn’t mean it. I was angry.” He shook his head. “I really screwed up, didn’t I?”

“In a major way, which is exactly what you’re going to tell her.”

“Don’t you understand? She doesn’t want to see me, Jess. She hates me.” He collapsed onto my sofa. “I was just trying to protect her.” He put his head in his hands. “I’m such a jerk.”

“No, you’re not. You’re a man. And men sometimes say things they don’t mean.”

Like Cutter and his
I’m coming back. And next time, I’m not going to stop.

The heat of the moment. That’s what it had been. He’d been worked up. I’d been worked up. And so he’d made a promise he never intended to keep.

“Jess?”

“Um, yeah.”

“Yeah, I can stay here?” His face lit up before I could open my mouth. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down. You’re the best!”

“You want to stay here? For the night?”

“Actually, it’s more like a few days. I need to get my head together. It’s either here or a hotel, and I really don’t want to be alone right now.”

Translation?
I need a little mattress dancing to help me forget.

“Gio, we really need to talk—”

“Can I take a rain check?” He ran a hand over his face and stifled a yawn. “All of this emotional stuff has me really wiped out.” He reached for the hem of his tee and pulled the shirt over his head. “I’m ready to crash.” He stretched out and crooked an arm under his head.

“You’re going to sleep here?” Disbelief fueled my voice. “On my sofa?”

“Look, Jess, don’t take this personally, but I really love Syra. I know you and I go way back, but it just can’t happen between us.”

A grin tickled my lips as I watched him snuggle down into the sofa pillow. “You just might be in love, after all.”

After a sleepless night (half spent listening to Gio cry—so loudly he’d drowned out Snooki’s barking—and the other half listening to him roar—I mean snore), I barely dragged myself into the office by nine.

Andrew was already halfway through a latte, while Burke was on the phone with Delaney, who wanted to change her signature cocktail from a chic Cosmo to a banana daiquiri.

“Don’t tell me.” I held up a hand as he slid the phone into its cradle. “She’s through with the sexy urban theme.”

Burke shrugged. “She saw a come-to-Jamaica commercial and she thinks fun and tropical is a better fit for her personality.”

I thought about the enormous amount of time and energy that had already been wasted and the mountain of work that still waited should she switch themes yet again.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” I murmured as I sank down at my desk and reached for the Life Savers in my drawer.

“Well, I have something that will cheer you right up.” Andrew set a large brown envelope in front of me and beamed. “Couriered over from the publisher first thing this morning.”

I opened the clasp and slid the contents from inside. My gaze riveted on the glossy cover of the upcoming issue of
Texas Brides
, complete with my picture and a caption that read
Meet the wedding genius behind Houston’s wildly successful Happily Ever After Events.

“The editor wanted you to see it first,” Andrew said, “before it hits the stands next week.”

Dread churned in my stomach.

I’d been so frantic that I’d actually forgotten about the magazine article touting me as the fastest-rising star in Houston’s wedding biz. And the cover shot of me surrounded by stacked wedding cakes. Proof beyond a doubt that I’d gone legit.

But it was real. And it was hitting the stands in just eight short days for all the world—and the Underworld—to see.

“Now I know I’m going to be sick.” The cherry candy suddenly felt strange on my tongue. My hands shook. My stomach hollowed out.

“I know what you mean.” Burke waved a hand. “They should have put you in green instead of that awful pastel. Everyone knows redheads can’t wear pink.”

My fright level shot to DEFCON 1 and I hyperventilated for the next few moments while Burke raced around searching for a paper bag.

“Try this.” He shoved a handful of plastic at me.

I stared at the Ziploc baggie. “I don’t think this will work.”

“Well, it’s the best I could find. I dumped my carrots out so you could at least try.”

I nixed the baggie and focused on not freaking out. What the hell was I doing? Even if I managed to pull off Mom’s wedding and help Cutter reclaim his soul, there was no way I was getting away with
this
. My mother would see it, the ruse would be over, and my chance at my own happily-ever-after would be lost.

Dead.

Because I’d be dead.

I ripped open the Ziploc and shoved the baggie over my nose and mouth.

In. Out. In. Out.

Easy. Calm. Breathe.

The room started to spin, and I spent the next fifteen minutes in the bathroom wishing with all of my heart that I had skipped the three doughnuts I’d scarfed earlier that morning.

My mother was going to kill me when she saw the magazine.
If
she saw the magazine.

As it was, she was scheduled to cruise the Caribbean next week for her honeymoon, which meant there was a slim chance she would miss the issue. Unless I failed miserably, the wedding was called off, and she stayed in Houston.

All the more reason I couldn’t fail. I wouldn’t fail. I was Houston’s hottest up-and-coming wedding planner and it was high time I started acting like it. Forget all the anxiety and worry. I was taking control. Starting right now.

I walked back into the workroom. “You.” I pointed at Burke. “Call Delaney and tell her to meet me in a half hour at the bridal salon. And you”—my gaze shifted to Andrew as I snatched up the magazine and shoved it at him—“burn this.”

I might be going down with a sinking ship, but I intended to tread water for as long as possible. Some things I couldn’t control—hurricanes, my favorite candidate getting voted off
The X Factor
, my mom killing me when she saw the magazine article. But Delaney Farris and her indecisiveness?

That I could fix. I could reason with her.

And if that didn’t work?

Head spin, here I come.

I didn’t have to resort to a three-sixty. Not that Delaney capitulated on the Jamaican theme, but she did cry. And scream. And kick.

My shin still ached by the time I got back to the office a few hours later and called the florist.

“I need to order five hundred birds-of-paradise.”

“No problem. When’s the event?”

“Two weeks.”

Laughter rumbled over the line and I blinked against the burning behind my eyes.

Okay, so Delaney wasn’t the one who’d cried. Rather, she’d done the kicking and screaming and yours truly had turned on the waterworks.

I fought back another wave of tears and stiffened. The one thing about crying? It made me feel better. Stronger. Determined. And less likely to slit my wrists.

I wasn’t going to accept defeat, no matter how bleak the future seemed. I was going to give Delaney the wedding of her Jamaican dreams.

But first, I was going to pull off an even more hellacious wedding and help a certain demon hunter reclaim his soul. And I was going to do it without having a bona fide meltdown first.

“I’ll pay extra,” I told the florist. “Double.”

“How about triple and the extra shipping to get everything here in time?”

“Done. Now tell me what you can do about supplying two thousand roses for Saturday.”

“It’s no problem getting the flowers. It’s storing them that’s impossible. My cooler is already full for a wedding I’m doing Saturday morning. The only extra space I have is my back storage room and I’m afraid it’s not air-conditioned. In this hot temperature, they’ll be shriveled and half dead in less than a few hours.”

“Perfect. I’ll take them.”